


Beginning

by Amarantramentum



Series: The Economics of Death [2]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 23:39:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12618156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amarantramentum/pseuds/Amarantramentum
Summary: Because even a shadow like him had a beginning.





	Beginning

Warm street light filtered into the car from overhead, moths caught in the golden light like shadows trapped in the moment and flitting to escape. Kavyn took a drag from his cigarette and passed it to Talon, fingers brushing against each other for a brief moment, but they were no longer children who shared secretive smiles at every small moment between them. Talon smiled. Took a nicotine-filled breath and leaned in for a kiss.

Kavyn’s lips were chapped, but warm, and they curved upward in the way they always did when they kissed. Talon knew well all the little habits Kavyn had picked up over the years, from the way he would look carefully into his eyes before gently taking his hand into his hand and sweetly pressing his lips to the inside of his wrist to the way he looked away when he laughed, flushed pink and eyes crinkling in the way he could only find _terribly_ _endearing_.

He wondered if there had ever been a day he did not love him, even when they were children and playing chasey because no one else would.

The cigarette was soon forgotten on the bitumen as they leaned into each other, breathing each other’s space as if they shared the last breaths of air in the universe. It was silent outside save for the constant cricket song, as if the world had fallen silent, had stood still, to preserve this moment between them, because although they were no longer love-struck children, he still fell in love with Kavyn every moment that passed.

But summer was not so kind, and they soon leaned back into their seats, the air con blasting as the radio hosts discussed the top twenty summer anthems and they sniggered at every small innuendo, their minds made up for the evening and their hands entwined between them. Talon sang along to his favourite songs, laughter on his lips as he danced as best he could in the cramped space of the car. And Kavyn would watch, star-struck until he leaned forward and brought him back to reality.

* * *

 Later that night, when they laid together on a bed with the blankets thrown to the ground, Talon’s head nestled in the crook of Kavyn’s arm as the fan blew on the highest setting, a decent enough respite from the muggy summer night. It was in the private of their rooms that he dared to wear the ring Kavyn had given him to commemorate their fifth anniversary, a simple titanium band with a small sapphire inset.

 _It reminds me of your eyes_.

He had wondered, of course, whether he had _bought_ it, or simply stolen it, although it did not matter when their lives had _run_ on crime for so long.

Kavyn shyly pressed a kiss to his temple then, and whispered a quiet goodnight. They had a mission in the morning – the assassination of the rival boss – and while it was slated to be a difficult one, they had faith in each other’s abilities; enough to allay any worries that may have otherwise grown between them. It was only natural. They had had each other’s back since they were ten and picked up a knife for the first time from behind the deli, where the big kids went during class to smoke pot.

And he dreamt that night: a pleasant dream about their future because he could see it now. He would one day succeed Marcus and lead their gang into an even more prosperous age, Kavyn by his side as his second, just as it was always meant to be. They were unstoppable. Indomitable. Driven not simply by success but _survival_.

It was a bond few could truly appreciate.

* * *

 Cold, blue light shone down on Kavyn where he lay, unmoving and bloodied, and Talon did not need to reach out to know what he had done. While it was not his place to mete out punishment, he was no stranger to enforcing the rules, and they did not look upon failure as kindly as Marcus had chosen to do. He would not choose to keep those who sabotaged the gang. Unlike Marcus, he was not so weak as to allow mere _affection_ to prevent him from running an efficient operation.

Yet now, he sat in the corner of their cramped room, staring helplessly at the corpse that now cooled as the fan blasted at full power, the sound louder than it had ever seemed before, as if working especially hard to prevent the inevitable. Talon did not cry. He had read once that it served as an emotional release – a way to alleviate the pain – but he did not deserve such a thing.

He wondered if he should return the ring to him. He did not deserve it now, and it burned in his palm like a brand, eating through flesh and bone until he could not feel it from the numbness of overload. There was a guilt, eating away at his gut, that he had not felt before. Not even when they were fifteen, and killed for the first time, blood and prints and DNA and _evidence_ all over the place (yet they were never caught).

His limbs were lead when he stood, and it felt as if a sinkhole would open up beneath him with every step that he took. He did not walk past Kavyn’s body without being sick, his body desperately ridding itself of the _guilt_ and _hatred_ which poisoned him now, although without much effect. His stomach heaved, even as he filled a duffle bag with all that he would need. He could feel Kavyn’s hands wrapping around his, gently, as he always did when they readied for a mission.

He wondered if his stomach was trying to turn itself inside out.

When finally, he gathered himself enough to close Kavyn’s eyes, he pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, just as Kavyn had done the night before. He held his hand for the briefest of moments – but already, he was much too cold. Much too stiff. The light leeched whatever life he had left in his skin, left him with a sickly pallor Talon did not want to remember.

“I love you,” he finally whispered. “Loved. You.”

He did not allow himself to cry.

* * *

 When finally, he made his way out of the house, golden street lights catching in his hair like strands of gold, it was night, and silent save for the cricket song which filled the air like rumours and judgemental stares. He wondered if the world were standing still as it had before for them. If perhaps it wanted to preserve this moment for all its tragedy, etch it into the history of the universe as a cautionary tale or to simply laugh at him.

But the universe was by no means a _sentient_ thing, and all he had left was the _shame_ and _regret_ that burnt low in his gut like a knife he could not pull away. The car choked to life, and a song he had danced to played on the radio. Moths flitted in the street light, caught in the moment just as he was. He lit a cigarette and took a drag, but there were no warm lips to kiss. There was no one to stare blank-faced as he danced, no one to tenderly do his hair, no one to watch late-night television with, and no one to stand by his side, warding away the loneliness with a love he had not dared name.

Cigarette forgotten on the bitumen, he drove away, swallowed by the darkness which threatened to consume his vision. His chest hurt in a way he could not describe, and his hands trembled as he reminded himself he could always turn back and allow the enforcers to mete out his punishment.

But he was a coward. Had always been.

Warm street light filtered into the car from overhead, and Talon was alone.


End file.
